


Just the Two of Us

by mousaerato



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mousaerato/pseuds/mousaerato
Summary: It wasn't all bad, after all.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Akechi Goro's Mother
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	Just the Two of Us

**Author's Note:**

> I have to believe there were happy times with them. I have to.

_Click, clack. Click, clack._

“Oh my goodness,” beamed a woman’s voice between breathless laughs, “Goro, how did you find—”

_Click, clack. Click, clack._

The woman was on her knees on the floor, cheeks straining from laughing at the sight before her inching closer. “Those are _way_ too big for your feet…”

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack._

The young lady gestured to the toddler to come closer, smiling with a mix of amusement and joy. If only she had a camera! No matter, she resolved – there was nobody to share them with anyway, and something told her that her son wouldn’t find this as funny as she did when he got older.

_Click. Clack._

The brown-haired toddler stood before his mother with a flummoxed and proud look on his face, gently tapping the floor with his new discovery: a pair of glossy, silvery, four-centimeter heels he’d procured. Ever curious about his world, Goro had slipped them on his feet and taking to imitating the adult in his life, strutting around their humble apartment in search of his mom.

His mother, for her part, found the image of her baby boy in blue shorts and heels to be _entirely too funny._ She was practically rolling on the floor, tears in her eyes at the sight – he really was a clever child, wasn’t he?

Her son laughed; her joy was contagious.

“Where did you find those, honey?” she asked, finally bringing him to her chest.

“The floor!” _Ah, she must have been tired and forgotten._

“And you put them on yourself?”

“Mhm.”

“Wow,” she marveled as she kissed his cheek, “You’re a funny kid…”

* * *

“Mama,” asked a three-year-old Akechi Goro as he stood in the doorway of the bathroom, “what are you doing?” He marveled at the strange instruments at the sink: tubes, bottles, brushes.

His mother looked away from the mirror and instinctively placed her mascara wand down. “I’m doing my makeup,” she explained calmly, “it’s important to look your best.”

“You’re already pretty!” The child scowled. Who made him think his mom had to change?

She gave a patient smile and assured him, “Thank you! This is just trying things for work.” Knowing her child was ever curious, she invited him closer. “Do you want to see?” She carefully moved her more delicate makeup to the side and in the cabinet above the sink, making a space for him to sit in front of the mirror next to her.

Goro looked intensely at the items she’d left in his reach: a blush brush, a sealed tube of lipstick, a few small “no heat” hair rollers, and a large matte-finish hairbrush. He grabbed the blush brush and ran its bristles along his hand. “What’s this one?”

“That,” his mother began as she took the brush from his hand, “is actually for your cheeks.” She waved the instrument with a flourish, and tickled him with it over his nose and cheeks. “You put makeup on it, and then you brush it like that.”

“Oh,” Goro replied, suddenly putting it together. “Can I try?”

She had time. There were some palettes she didn’t like for this time of year, and she knew how to fix cracks in them. She reached for a shelf to her right and grabbed an old set of blushes from last season, opening the container carefully in front of her son. “You can help me today, sweetheart,” she explained, “Pick _one_ color, okay?”

“This smells funny.” Goro sniffled as he looked at the colors: strange bronzes, florid pinks, and nude tones.

She giggled. “You’re right, it does. What color should we use?”

“This one,” he said quietly as he pointed to the _least ugly_ pink. “I like it.”

“Good choice,” she complimented. Taking the brush to the blush, the woman explained, “So we put a little bit on like this…and then we put it on. Do you want to try?”

“On you?” Goro’s eyes lit up – this was _important!_

“Yes!” She handed the brush to him. “Do your best, okay?”

Needless to say, the boy did. His best included painting her nose, her cheeks, and her upper lip.

* * *

The young Akechi-san could feel their stares of the women in the room like daggers on her skin – in particular, on her left hand. The conspicuous absence of a ring drew their attention like metal to a magnet. Their glares slapped at her short-sleeved blouse, form-fitting skirt, bright skin, and glossy hair. She had a feeling what they were thinking, with their eyes stained with contempt and crows’ feet and graying hair, but she refused to engage them. This wasn’t about them, or even her – it was for her five-year-old.

Finally, an older woman cleared her throat and looked Akechi-san in the eyes. “Excuse me, miss,” she started, overly polite. “This is a meeting for _parents,_ not the… _siblings_ of students.” The edge of her tone tried to cut at the young woman’s heart – obviously, this parent _knew_ who she was, but was hoping to sound _polite and concerned_ instead of _cruel and gossipy._

“I am a parent of a student.” Her light, feminine voice struck back at the _shrew_ with surprising strength. Of course, Akechi-san was nervous – and she knew what she’d be in for – but she would endure it.

“Ah. I see. I’m sorry.” The matronly _bitch_ – the only word Akechi-san could find to describe her accurately – responded tersely. “And who is your child?”

It was then that the parents in the room stopped cold. “My son is Goro,” the girl gushed.

Their faces changed, barely containing the shock. Clearly, these parents were _very involved_ in school culture, judging by the way they looked at her with such scorn. Of course _she_ couldn’t have the brightest child in the class, now could she?

She smiled – that practiced, megawatt smile – and continued, “I’ve heard he’s doing well, but I want to get more involved, so I wanted to join the PTA. Is that okay?”

Sometimes, her job had its advantages. She knew how to read a room, and she knew exactly what to say to work things to her advantage. Plus, she was actually available for the times they needed her, given her unorthodox shifts. And she knew that parents generally _hated yakuin_ duty—

“We are actually full up,” answered another parent with narrow, sharp features. “But it is nice that you wanted to help. Maybe next year.”

Well, more time with her baby, she supposed. And if they were so threatened by his brilliance, so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> I might add some more drabbles...


End file.
